Campfire Tales
by runner
Summary: Stories from camp, silly, serious or sweet. Mahariel/Alistair romance, Mahariel's friendships with other characters explored.


I'm loving Dragon Age! I have three characters (Dwarf noble, City Elf and Dalish elf) and have been plotting out some fanfics for each of them. I decided to start with my first PC, Arden, a Dalish Ranger/Duelist Rogue.

I've planned this story to be a collection of pieces following Arden on her unlikely journey. I'll focus on her relationship with Alistair in further chapters, and there will also be exploration of her origins and her friendships with other characters. This little snippet came to me as I was writing- it's pretty light, future chapters may be

Please read and review!

"I brought you some wolf pelts, I thought you might be able to make something out of them." Arden said, striding to Morrigan's fire and dropping three recently cured pelts in her lap.

Arden had traded in her Dalish armor for something sturdier and less… exposed… weeks ago but had noticed Morrigan shivering as they treaded the increasingly frozen terrain. Although neither woman was quick to complain, they'd found a kinship in their distaste for the cold; the Kocari Wilds and the Dales were both far to the south.

Morrigan sniffed. "Still a bit gamey, aren't they?"

Arden rolled her eyes. "And here I thought I was doing you a favor, protecting you from death by exposure."

Morrigan laughed, even as she wrinkled her nose. "Very well, you're certainly right, My robes aren't sufficient for the weather. I thank you."

"You're more than welcome." Arden replied, warming her hands by Morrigan's small fire secluded from the rest of camp. The fire kept the chill of the mountains at bay; their travels had drawn them further North and to higher elevations.

It was no so surprising that she'd become friends with Morrigan, Arden reflected, although scant months ago she could never have imagined befriending a human. From the beginning they'd forged a respect for each other as capable, practical women baffled by much of the human behavior around them. Arden had been surprised to find she had so much in common with a woman so different from her; she wondered if everyone raised close to the forest and its creatures was imparted a certain quality that could be recognized in another. They certainly had their disagreements, from helping villagers solve small problems to the merits of a certain boyishly charming (or was it infuriatingly dimwitted?) Gray Warden, but their differences did little to hinder their friendship.

Arden's reflections were interrupted when her dog bounded over, caked in snow, with a red cheeked, laughing Alistair in tow. Of course he wasn't bothered by the cold, Arden thought. After a long day trudging through a rocky pass and a half-frozen marsh, killing a small squad of darkspawn on the way, he was romping in the snow, wrestling dog, surprisingly carefree. His eyes caught hers and his expression made her breath catch in an increasingly familiar fashion. Arden smiled at him; Alistair beamed in return and plopped down next to them, pressing a quick kiss on her cheek. Morrigan sighed and looked vaguely ill.

"Oooooo what's that you have there?" Alistair sniffed the air near Morrigan and screwed up his nose. "Finding new ways to repel males of all species? Being a scary swamp witch isn't enough?"

"If I wish to learn now to repel members of the opposite sex, I will surely seek advice from the master of the art. Please be prepared to speak on the subject at length, Alistair, or should I simply observe your actions? Morrigan retorted.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you can make something… witchy… and fragrant out of those things." Alistair remarked.

"I'll have both of you know I skinned those hides myself!" Arden huffed. "Have you no respect for fine Elvin workmanship? Freshly cured hides may not smell like roses but they're hardly offensive."

"Funny," Alistair said, rubbing his chin and looking thoughtful, "I don't remember the Dalish camp we visited smelling quite so…"

"Pungent?" Morrigan supplied.

Arden glowered in mock anger.

"Perhaps it is only Gray Wardens that tend to travel in a cloud of stench." Morrigan said with a grin in Alistair's direction.

"Hey!" Alistair replied, blushing a deep shade of red. "That's not fair! I'm doing my best!"

"Well, perhaps we should have bathed the wolves before killing them?" Arden said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Morrigan ineffectively scrubbed at a bloody handprint on a pelt. "You could have at least washed your hands, Arden."

"It sounds like the makings of a great joke, doesn't it?" Alistair started, "A witch, an elf, and an irresistibly handsome and valiant young warrior all go down to the river to give a wolf a bath…"

"If I roll my eyes any harder, I fear they may fall from my skull" Morrigan whispered.

Arden motioned subtly to the pile of snowballs she had been forming during the last few minutes; sleight of hand certainly had its uses. Morrigan grinned wickedly.

"Would it be too much to hope that wet frocks would be involved in the punchline?" Alistair mused, wagging his eyebrows and grinning at Arden; his grin was met by several well-aimed snowballs to the face.

"Blasted sneaky elf rogues and witch thieves! I won't go down without a fight!" he cried, jumping to his feet.

The three of them erupted in giggles, curses and a flurry of snowballs; dog barked in excitement, running in circles. He eventually managed to trip Alistair, who grabbed Arden's arm, bringing her down with a shriek. Morrigan doubled over laughing, failing to fend off a final snowball Arden lobbed at her. The look on Morrigan's face, half covered in snow with her mouth hanging open like a fish, sent Arden into convulsions of laughter.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and saw Wynne, who stood near them with a bemused look on her face. "So, the mighty Gray Wardens, felled by a dog and a few snowballs."

"And Alistair's superb sense of balance, don't forget." Morrigan interjected.

Arden stood up, brushing off the majority of the snow. She grinned, pink cheeked, her short brown hair wildly tousled.

Wynne's thoughts of chiding them for their childish behavior, of cautioning them against being to noisy in unknown territory, left her as she looked at the young Warden's face. She hadn't seen her so happy, so lighthearted, since they met at the mages' tower months ago. Surely it would not be wrong to allow a moment of silliness, a brief respite from the near impossible task they faced.

Wynne looked at the three of them and thought: They are so young. Whatever else they were, whatever they must become, they were three youngsters far from the only homes they had ever known. She suddenly felt very old and very, very tired.

"I can see you're hard at work developing daring new tactics to use against the darkspawn Warden Mahariel, I will leave you to it." She turned and walked back to her tent, smiling a bit as she heard the battle begin anew.


End file.
